


The Cannons Fire in the Distance

by captain_chased_by_time



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fourth of July, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:53:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25117936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_chased_by_time/pseuds/captain_chased_by_time
Summary: In continuing writing holiday-themed one shots here's a Fourth of July one! The fireworks bring Killian back to times he'd rather not remember.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	The Cannons Fire in the Distance

Although they usually fall asleep in some tangled mess of limbs, wrapped in the warmth of knowing the other would be there through it all, they somehow always end up sleeping next to each other, only touching slightly. Especially now, in the heat of early July. What they had was a beginning, a start, a story yet to be written or told. For both Killian and Emma, a life together was a fresh start filled with something neither ever thought they deserved: true love. 

It was Fourth of July weekend, a first in Storybrooke. Upon returning from his first semester of college, Henry campaigned for the school to continue teaching American history - the good, the bad, and the ugly - despite the curse having been lifted and Storybrooke being a community of fairytale characters and their children. He wanted to give them the same chance to experience life outside their small town in Maine that he has. He even got Regina to fund new history textbooks for each grade. Henry loved history, the telling of events through stories. He loved weaving fairytales and historical events together and creating an exceptionally unique story. As the Author, he had a knack for writing and saw himself following in his grandmother’s footsteps to eventually teach, potentially in a high school or at a university, while he worked on writing his novels - plural because he has far too many ideas swirling around his head. 

Mary Margret, being Mary Margret, knew about the Fourth of July from her curse memories and now from the new history books for her elementary school students and decided a celebration must be held. Storybook loved a good excuse to celebrate. Everyone was abuzz with the opportunity to celebrate America’s independence from Britain, a notion that sometimes made Killian scowl playfully. His own experience serving in the Navy under an English King was exactly what led him to piracy in the first place. _Captain Jones_. He took a different path to the title than his brother did. Liam was his captain when they served in the King’s Navy. 

If he was being honest with himself, everything about this “holiday” tugged at a place in his heart that he kept locked away, a place that hadn’t truly been touched since his wedding day when Liam wasn’t there to stand beside him as he married the love of his life. _Captain Jones_. Liam would’ve loved Emma. Really they would have loved each other and teamed up against him on far too many occasions for his liking. Time would never heal the pain of losing Liam. 

Killian admired Liam. _Captain Jones_. He loved him more than words could qualify and more than numbers could quantify. He owed Liam more than he would ever be able to to give him, to repay him. For standing by his side while he drank his way into darkness attempting to escape the reality of the slavery their own father sold them into. For working harder than any man should ever have to work to buy them both a way out. For constantly looking after him. For always loving him.

Emma’s hand rested under Killian’s and her sock-covered foot rested against his bare foot under the covers. His sleep was restless. His mind was racing. His dreams were unpleasant. 

_He was back on the Jewel of the Realm. It was the first time a cannon was fired at him. He had just made sub-lieutenant. He wasn’t afraid. Liam was at the wheel, commanding his men with a natural Naval leadership._

_“What now, Captain Jones?” A crewman asked._

_Liam didn’t fire back. Liam hated war, he hated fighting, he hated, or really feared, the thought of death. “We put an end to this before it has the chance to start.” He stated, calmly. He signaled to the other ship. He negotiated a treaty. It ended before it began._

The first firework exploded outside his bedroom window. He flinched and his mind pulled him back into an unsettling dream. 

_Killian now wore a Lieutenant’s insignia on his jacket._ Captain Jones. _Liam saw the pirate ship ahead of them before anyone else did. Quietly, calmly, he prepared his men. Killian watched, in awe when his older brother grabbed his sword, ready to lay his life down for his King, and in terror when he instructed Killian to grab his own sword. The sound of the cannon firing from his own ship shook Killian to his core._

_It was a slaughter. 20 men on his ship alone had died when all was said and done. When a truce was eventually called because neither side could stand to lose more men. Killian had killed 5 men and wounded even more that day. He wasn’t a stranger to death. He had seen it countless times while he was at sea. He wasn’t a stranger to pain. He had received countless lashings and other physical punishments during his indenture. Killian was, however, a stranger to killing a man, to taking a life, until now._

_“What now, Captain Jones?” A crewman asked Liam. His voice broke the silence that had fallen over the ship as both sides retreated._

_Liam responded with grace, poise, and confidence. “We honor the dead, scrub the deck, and move forward.”_

Killian, who according to his wife always ran hot, was shivering in bed despite the blankets covering him. His eyes were wide open, fixated on the ceiling above him. His mind, however, was trapped in the cycle as the soft cracks of exploding fireworks in the distance continued.

_The blood stained the deck. It took days to scrub it clean, to lay the bodies to rest in the sea, to rid the ship of disembodied limbs, to erase the evidence of the massacre. He looked to Liam, standing at the wheel, captaining the ship forward while the rest of the crew was hard at work, the stench of death lingering in the wooden planks of the deck. He wanted to leave this life. He wanted out. But he didn’t want to leave Liam. He saw something in Liam’s eyes that had been growing since they had joined the Navy together. It was the loss of any childhood innocence that Liam had clung to all his life - hope that things would get better, faith in himself and in his brother, belief that life was worth living - replaced with misplaced loyalty in a cowardly and dishonorable King and indifference towards death. The indifference growing behind Liam’s eyes scared Killian the most. The war was far from over. He was starting to wonder if the war they were fighting in reality and in their minds would ever end._

The fireworks slowed in the distance. Killian was trembling, frozen in place and drenched in sweat. 

_A cannon fired at their ship._

_“What now Captain Jones?” A man asked._

_“Fire back.” Killian didn’t hesitate to answer. The Jolly Roger was the fastest ship in the realm. He could have outran the ship flying the British flag behind him. But the thrill of the fight was addicting. Killian no longer donned his Naval uniform. When Liam died, he traded the blue coat and white linen for black eyeliner and black leather. He took his brother’s place as Captain._

_He was no longer afraid to kill. He was no longer afraid to run into battle, sword in hand. He was no longer afraid to die. Because Killian no longer had anything to live for. The indifference that he once saw in Liam’s eyes, the indifference that he once feared, consumed him._

_He told himself he lived for the code he curated and lived by. He told himself he lived for Liam. He told himself he lived for himself. But in reality, none of those things were enough to keep him alive. He was fearless in his piracy, his pillaging, his thievery, his murdering because he had nothing to fear. Except himself when he was alone at night._

_The cannons fired rapidly._

Killian was trapped in a past he desperately wanted to escape. He had tasted heroism, he had tased kindness, he had tasted love. He couldn’t go back to who he was, to what it was. He didn’t want to go back. He didn’t want to remember. He didn’t want to relive. But it wouldn’t stop.

_He watched his own men die for him. He had commanded them to die. He knew, every time he led them to fight it was a death sentence for some, sometimes many. Killian, in his darkest moments, in his worst moments, didn’t second guess those decisions to send those men to die because he would always be fighting alongside them. That was his code. Don’t send a man to fight a battle you wouldn't fight yourself. Except that the fearless, broken, pirate captain Killian Jones feared nothing, and sometimes craved death, and would fight any battle._

A firework exploded close to their home, nearly shaking the entire house. The room was lit with red as Killian leapt out of bed and grabbed the sword he kept hidden under there, ready to fight. He was hyperventilating, stuck in a trance he was unable to break. He was back on the Jolly. The world around him fell away. The fireworks were cannons. 

Emma was startled awake when Killian jumped out of bed. Her heart caught in her throat as she saw him staring over her, right through the wall of their bedroom, sword in hand. _Where the fuck did he get that sword from?!_ Emma thought. 

“Killian?” She asked softly, her voice cracking slightly as she started to wake up.

_“What now, Captain Jones?” He heard a familiar voice ask._

“Arm yourselves. Prepare for battle.” Killian commanded. His voice was loud, clear, and confident despite the tears falling down his face. Emma had never heard him use this voice before. She had watched him captain the Jolly a number of times, and had even taken orders from him a handful of those times. But never did she hear him speak like this. Like a captain heading into battle. Like the fear, the pain, the love, he had ever experienced had been stripped from his soul. “Fire back.”

Emma looked outside and saw the flashing colors of the fireworks. “Killian. There’s no battle.” 

_“Captain, we’re outmanned. We need to recruit more. You have you outrun them.”_

Killian gripped the sword harder, his knuckles turned white. “Fire. Back. I have to protect her. As long as they live they will be after me which means she is in danger. Fire back,” Killian ordered, his voice echoing off the walls of their empty bedroom. 

Emma flinched, momentarily afraid of the man in front of her, a ghost from Killian’s past that had consumed her husband. He was so far away, so far adrift in another world. “Killian,” Emma cooed, attempting to pull him back to the present, back to where he was in their bedroom in the house they owned together as a married couple. “You’re home. Come back to me. You’re home.” 

_“But Captain -”_

“THAT’S AN ORDER,” Killian shouted, anger rising in his belly that his crew wasn’t listening to his orders. He was their Captain, damn it. He had to protect Emma. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt Emma. Why was no one helping him protect Emma? 

Emma’s breath caught in her throat. He had never raised his voice at her like this. 

Another firework exploded outside their window and Killian flinched, nearly curling into himself as if he was trying to hide. He doesn't know how much time had passed since he had last heard the sound of a cannon firing at him. It had been long enough that he now found the sound, that he once found thrilling, unnerving.

Emma didn’t know what else to do other than to keep talking to him, desperate to bring him back to her. He was talking right through her. He was so clearly in another world. So she recited the words they had framed in their living room, hoping that they’ll ground him, her voice shaking with each word. “Killian. I spent so much of my life on my own. And then Henry found me and brought me to Storybrooke and helped me find the rest of my family. But just because you learn that you come from true love doesn't mean you believe that you will ever find it. But thanks to you, now I have.” 

Killian let the sword drop to the floor. _Captain Jones_. He choked on a sob, the Jolly fading away, his crew fading away, Liam fading away. “Emma,” Killian sobbed. 

Emma instantly slipped out of bed and pulled him into her arms, soothingly stroking his hair. “Shhh. I’ve got you.” 

Killian held her tight against him, as if she was the only thing keeping him both from falling and from leaving this plane of reality for a life he desperately wanted to leave behind. There will always be a part of him that feared falling back into his old habits, his old ways. Part of him will always fear a ghost will come back to haunt him, that someone from his past will come back to try and hurt Emma and that happening would be entirely his fault. 

He feared death in a way he never had before. He was captaining an entirely new ship, one that held the people he loved the most, one that held a future, one that held hope. Killian flinched again when another loud firework went off. He couldn’t stand this anymore. Every explosion sounded like a cannon. Every explosion sounded like war. Every explosion sounded like death. Every explosion was a screaming reminder of the deaths he caused, the men he led shamelessly into battles, the lives he had selfishly taken, the brother he had lost before he even had a chance to die, the parts of him he lost when the numbness to death began to consume him. They were a reminder of the war in himself. The war between needing that numbness to get through this night whole and never again wanting to feel that. 

Killian could barely breathe. “I can’t - It’s too - Make it stop,” he managed between sobs. 

Emma led him to their bathroom. It was the quietest room in the house with no windows. “I’ll be right back.” She kissed his cheek before sprinting around the room, grabbing as many blankets and pillows as she could hold before plopping them in front of Killian who was not curled up on the floor, covering his ears. She touched his hair gently to remind him that she was there for him before leaving again to grab her laptop, charger, and bluetooth speaker. She closed the door behind her when she returned to the bathroom, blocking out the rest of the world.

Laying their fluffy comforter on the floor she arranged the pillows against the side of the tub, using it at a makeshift headboard. Emma wrapped Killian in a blanket and wet a washcloth to dab at the sweat and tears on his face. “You’re okay, Killian. I’m here.” She whispered. He grabbed her hand when the next firework exploded outside, thankful that the door and the blanket Emma rolled up to cover the space between the floor and the bottom of the door muffled the sound. 

Emma opened her laptop and connected the speaker. She started playing Love Actually, a Christmas favorite of theirs, and turned the volume up on the speaker to drown out any unwanted sounds. 

“You love this movie.” Emma said, trying to get Killian to open his eyes. “Babe, look at me, please.” Killian was still trembling but not hearing much of the fireworks anymore was able to calm his breathing a bit. “It’s just you and me and that guy who plays Professor Snape in Harry Potter who you like.” She knew the last thing Killian would do is tell her what was happening in his mind. That’s not what Killian did when his emotions got the best of him. He’ll talk when he’s calmed down. He’ll tell her tomorrow. She knew her husband well enough to know he didn’t need to talk at this moment. He needed her. He needed to come back home. 

It broke her heart in a million different ways, ways she didn't even think were possible, to see Killian like this. To see her strong, confident, sexy, brilliant husband fighting a raging battle inside, a battle she couldn’t even comprehend. 

“You’re home. You’re safe. You’re in Storybrooke,” Emma started. “You’re strong. You’re loved. You’re kind. You’re not who you once were Killian. You’re safe. There are no cannons. The only people you usually fight with are me when I leave clothes piling up on the chair or say something stupid, and David when he tells you to take a break from work and you refuse to, and sometimes WIll because he’s an idiot and enjoys getting on your nerves. There’s no more battles to be fought, Killian. We fought them and we won them and it’s all over now. We get to live the life that we want to live, together. You are home. You are safe. You are loved.” 

Killian pulled her into his arms and she settled into his lap. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

“Lucky for you, you never have to find out.” Emma leaned up and kissed his jaw. She reached over and turned her laptop to face them, and brought the speaker closer to them to keep the scary sounds of exploding fireworks at bay. 

Eventually Killian opened his eyes and his heart rate slowed down to normal. They watched the movie, curled up on the bathroom floor. Emma turned the lights off halfway through the movie. There was something comforting about the way the movie barely lit the room. It was like their own personal movie theater. 

Neither of them ended up getting back to sleep until early in the morning, after the sun had already emerged. They spent all night watching Christmas movies. 

The following night would be the big fireworks show the town was putting on. Emma decided Killian might find comfort with someone who was just as afraid of fireworks as he was. So in the late afternoon when they were both finally awake, they made their way to the animal shelter where Killian picked out the cutest Border Collie that he named Sailor. 

Emma, Killian, and Sailor all ended up spending another night locked away in the bathroom, with hordes of junk food and playing Christmas movies at full volume to drown out the sound of the fireworks that seemed to never end. Killian was far from okay that night. But at least he had Emma and Sailor to see him through it. 

If only Liam was there to see the life he had built, to be a part of this story they were writing. 


End file.
